


Welcome To The Future

by fortunata13



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Drabble, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunata13/pseuds/fortunata13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little drabble about H.G. Well's return to London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome To The Future

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into this fandom so I'm going to run and hide now.

Helena asked to be bronzed. It wasn’t something that  _happened_  to her or that was  _done_  to her. It was a decision she’d made. She did it out of grief and guilt, but also out of hope. Above all else, Helena was hopeful. She believed in the future, a future in which men would have surely learned from their mistakes and created a world in which crimes like the one that took her daughter’s life no longer occurred. War and hatred and famine, all distant memories that future generations would only ever read about in books.

And yet here she is, in a world in which everything is bigger, faster, and above all else, deadlier. Men didn’t learn to live in peace with each other, they found better ways to kill each other. They built weapons capable of decimating entire cities with the push of a button, used unmanned flying machines to drop bombs on their enemies, sent innocent children into war zones.

She’d asked to be bronzed to atone for her sins but also out of hope. The utopian image of the future she’d held, even while encased in bronze, did not come to pass. Thus, she finds herself in a world where she doesn’t belong. Everything and everyone she knew is gone. That _joie de vivre_ that all who knew her always referenced still lives inside her but now it’s mingled with anger. The future wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Her home, she finds, is now a museum, a curiosity visited by strangers pawing at her belongings, awed by her imagination and talent. Well, except that just as it was a hundred years ago, it’s still her brother they celebrate. It doesn’t matter anymore, she reasons, her purpose here is different now. 

It only takes her a moment to spot the two agents hot on her trail. The man, she knows, will be an easy mark. She’s still more beautiful than most, and a sight cleverer than any man she’s ever met. Kissing him isn’t exactly her preferred reintroduction to physical contact, but it’s a sacrifice she’ll willingly make to get what she came for.

The other one, the woman, caught her off guard but only a little. This is still Helena’s home, the other two haven’t a chance of besting her –– not here, and probably not anywhere. Myka, the lovely female agent –– and certainly the brighter of the two –– guides her to a chair and cuffs her. For Helena it’s been too long; she chances grazing the back of Myka’s hand with her fingers just for the thrill of it. Myka’s skin is soft and warm and oh so electric. Helena has enough experience with women to know that Myka felt it, too. But more importantly, for the first time in nearly a century, H.G. Wells feels alive.


End file.
